Tisha Starks is capable. She’s hardworking, and she’s independent — she hates asking for help.

But she’s also a mother.

One day, as she looked at her family’s bank account, she realized there wasn’t enough to pay for a motel room for her family of four that night. She, her husband Larry, Malaki — then a third-grader, now a rookie for the Ravens — and Mariah, a seventh grader, had been in the motel for about a week. But now there was not enough left for another night, and Tisha had a decision to make: Let her kids sleep in the car or ask for help.

“I wasn’t about to let my kids do that,” Tisha said. “So I had to suck it up, not think about myself and think about my kids.”

She reached out to her sister and a friend who is as close as a sister. They both had experienced their own hard times, which made the asking easier.

Always honest with her kids, she told them things were hard but their dad was working hard to get them back into their own home. Inside, she hated that she couldn’t provide them their own space to be themselves.

“As a parent, the scariest moment is when you realize that the money is not adding up at the end of the day to pay the bills or put food on the table or to provide for your kids, and especially not being able to put a roof over their heads,” Tisha said. “So, for me, that was the hardest part to deal with, not being able to provide for our kids like we should as parents. But I also understand that things happen in life and you can’t help it.”

The family gathered their belongings and crammed in with her sister and her five kids, interspersing those stays with nights at motels or with her friend to not wear out their welcome.

Others in the Jefferson, Georgia, community lent a helping hand, but they did it without asking questions. For years, their hosts were the only ones who knew just what the Starks family was persevering through. The town watched avidly as Malaki dominated on the football field, eventually going on to represent the small town on the college team everybody rooted for, the Georgia Bulldogs.

Still, nobody knew the full story.

Until one day in May 2024 when Malaki, then a star safety at Georgia, sat on a stage across from a preacher and, with cameras recording and the congregation looking on, said publicly for the first time, “We were homeless.”

Tisha had no idea he planned to do that. But, as news outlets picked it up and the word spread, she was struck with immense pride — and an onslaught of messages from loved ones wondering why they never knew.

Malaki understood that telling his family’s story would open them up to speculation, judgment and questions. Homelessness comes with a stigma. But his mother had always taught him he had a story that could inspire, and his success as a three-year starting safety on Georgia’s national championship team gave him his first platform to reach those beyond his small town.

“People take things and they can twist it, or whatever,” Malaki said. “But you know, at the end of the day, I know my true self. I know my true story.”

And now, with the spotlight that comes with being the Ravens’ first-round draft pick, it’s time to tell the story.

Finding peace

Malaki was an angry child.

Those outside his inner circle never would have guessed. Youth coaches, high school coaches, parents of teammates and the local rec center director described him as a loving, happy kid who always showed up with a smile and a hug.

Those smiles were genuine, and Tisha said they helped her to be strong. But his family and his then-classmate (now-fiancée) Savanna Jackson knew there was more beneath the surface.

“I didn’t have the best childhood growing up,” Malaki explained. “I didn’t have the worst, either. But I think, just a lot of time, just being angry in general.”

Malaki struggled in school. The teaching methods didn’t work for him, Tisha said, and he became frustrated.

Malaki was also introduced to tragedy early. When he was 7, a distant cousin he refers to as a brother, was killed in a double murder-suicide. Malaki explained to the Rock Springs Church congregation that he had been asking to stay with his best friend one night but wasn’t allowed to. The next morning, his friend was found dead.

“I was angry, and I didn’t understand,” Malaki told the audience. “I was angry at God, and I was angry at the world, too. Like why, if you love me so much, are you taking someone that I care about so much away?”

And then there was the constant uncertainty about his living situation.

Malaki was lucky in a lot of ways, as he’ll make sure to tell you.

“It was never like I had to eat out of a trash can or something,” he said.

He never went without food or clothes. He lived in a town that prioritized education and gave resources to the athletic programs from high school down through youth programs. Most important, he had two hardworking parents who did their best to be present and supportive.

Despite their hard work and best efforts, there reached a point when the paychecks didn’t add up to cover bills and there were no places to rent within their price range.

They stayed in a motel for over a week before packing up and spending more than a month with Tisha’s sister when he was in third grade. The two families combined for 11 people in the house. Malaki slept with his male cousins, while Mariah stayed in the girls’ room.

When he was in sixth grade, they found themselves in a similar situation for two months. Except this time Larry had to shoulder the work. Tisha was needed at home after Mariah found out she was pregnant. Determined to give her talented daughter all the opportunities previously available to her, she quit her job to help take care of the baby. This time, they leaned on her friend, as well.

In total, they were homeless for less than six months. But, even when they weren’t technically homeless, they were bouncing from place to place, Tisha explained.

“I never had a place to call home that was mine and my family’s,” Malaki said. “So that was really huge in my development as a child.”

The Starks family stayed in church, and through time and prayer, Malaki said, he learned to turn the anger over his friend’s death to God and find comfort and healing.

Meanwhile his father took the time to learn Malaki’s coursework between the multiple jobs he was working. He taught Malaki another way to look at things. Eventually, school got easier and more of Malaki’s anger eased.

As Malaki’s parents worked hard and eventually found better-paying jobs, they clawed their way out of homelessness.

But all of those things – faith, understanding and stability – took time to build. Malaki needed an outlet for all that anger. He found it in football.

“Our house was really sports-oriented,” Malaki said. “So I was like, ‘Hey, let me go try it.’ And then it kind of just helped me with my anger issues. ... And I think it was just at an early age I found that, like it was my space to just be myself.”

Shane Sorrow was Malaki’s coach his second season, and he laughs to think he didn’t want him at first. He had too many kids; he worried they wouldn’t get enough playing time. But the rec director assured him he’d want “Larry’s kid,” whose speed lit up the field the first year.

Sure enough, Malaki was a game breaker on offense — despite hating taking contact so much, he ran out of bounds, behind the bench and along the track to avoid it — and he was a monster on defense, making plays all over the field.

More than that, Sorrow said, Malaki made the team better because he was such a good person. He greeted Sorrow every day with a smile and a hug and left with another hug (“He’s been a hugger since the day he was born,” Tisha said) and an “I love you!” Football did enough to relieve Malaki’s anger that Sorrow never saw a hint of anything but that kind, happy kid and a good teammate.

It was a no-brainer for Sorrow whenever Malaki would ask if he could sleep at his house.

Often, those “sleepovers” turned into slumber parties. Other kids would find out Malaki asked to sleep over, and they’d invite themselves along. Sorrow would have Larry help shuttle the kids to the house while he would make a last-minute food run.

“And I’d feel like a Waffle House chef the next morning,” Sorrow joked.

Sorrow was not the only one to lend a helping hand to the Starkses with no questions asked. Whether it was people from sports, school or the church, many were willing to help two parents they saw working to provide for their children while also being present and supportive at all their games.

“A little piece of everybody that we know played a role in it, just from the support and the foundation and the love that we have for them and they have love for us,” Tisha said.

The community just didn’t know how much that help meant until years later.

Giving back

When Malaki was 17, he and Jackson approached Fenton Morris, Jefferson’s director of parks and rec, and asked for jobs at the rec center.

The Starkses had gotten to a stable enough place, financially, that Malaki could afford to take a lesser-paying job and give his time to the children of Jefferson and a place that had made a difference in his life.

“I told him we’d love to have him, and I knew right away his presence would make a positive impact and not just on our rec kids but on the rest of our part-time staff too,” Morris said.

Jackson recalled kids “would just migrate to him.” He shot around with them between basketball games or played catch on top of his other work. Even if it was a Saturday morning after his Friday night game, he was willing and patient with the kids, one of his high school coaches, Matt Stephenson, recalled. And, when they allowed kids into the high school locker room before games, his high school coordinator, Tom Parker, remembers the kids flocking to Starks’ locker.

Kids are “probably his favorite thing,” Jackson said, but his impact was not limited to the less experienced.

“Younger kids looked up to him, not just because he was talented but because he carried himself with humility and drive,” Morris said. “And, for adults in the community, it was a reminder of the strength of character and determination that young people are capable of.”

In high school, time and energy were what Malaki had to give back. In college, football — the same thing that provided the resources to give back — sapped that time and energy. But Malaki was determined to be present, not just a faceless benefactor.

He had been working with Brantley Porter, a local business owner and member of the school board, on his recruitment and his initial name, image and likeness deals. Porter helped him choose Everett Sports Management to help him manage his deals, which funded his giving, and to schedule the work he wanted to do in the community between football and school obligations.

“He’s always been a very giving person, caring person because of the financial situation that he grew up in, and he wanted to give back,” Porter said. “ESM, to their credit, they wanted him to give back. And they helped to match funds on giving back also.”

ESM connected Malaki with Associated Credit Union.

Malaki was the second Georgia athlete, after tight end Brock Bowers, to sign an NIL deal with ACU, and foundation manager Prisca Walters said it was clear quickly that his values aligned with the company’s. He stressed that he wanted to give back to children, so they arranged two free camps. One was for boys and girls, and the other was for young men.

At both camps, Walters was struck by how authentic Malaki’s interactions with the kids were. He kept the groups small so he could spend time with every kid there, jumping in the drills and giving them tips. At the second camp, which included a tour of Georgia’s campus, an impromptu football game broke out with Starks, Jackson and some Georgia teammates playing. Jackson was sorry to say Starks’ team beat hers.

Walters thought the game would be the highlight for the kids. But, when she asked the student sitting next to her at lunch, he surprised her.

“He said to me that he could envision himself being a student at UGA, just like Malaki Starks,” Walters said.

Walters also revealed that some of the children who attended the camp were experiencing housing insecurity, living in the Salvation Army’s transitional housing unit. Starks and Jackson were not aware of that. When they learned that after the fact, they were “overjoyed” to hear they were able to reach kids in their time of need, said Jackson, who immediately started thinking about how they could help those kids get to college “just like Malaki Starks.”

Speaking up

Starks realized the difference his words could make as his star shone brighter. After years of keeping his experiences to himself and giving back quietly, he made the bold step to open himself and his story up to the world.

“I think my platform that I had in college, it allowed me to do that and just reach people that I wouldn’t have been able to reach while I was in high school,” Starks said.

Malaki has never been quiet about his faith, and local churches were constantly reaching out to see if the star safety wanted to speak. He said yes to several. Rock Springs Church was the first to post his talk.

When Malaki set out for Rock Springs Church with Jackson by his side, he didn’t mention a plan to reveal his family’s homelessness. Jackson said she doesn’t even know if that was premeditated.

But he’s comfortable in a church setting and he strives to be authentic. Although his family preferred to work through their struggles, his mom also taught him not to be embarrassed about what they went through.

“I’ve always told him, ‘Malaki, everybody has a story,” Tisha said. “We’re not ashamed of our background. So, if you get an opportunity to share your story, share your story. It doesn’t matter, because your story can help someone else.”

And so the story came pouring out. And soon it came out in papers and radio stations, spreading across Dawg nation — and through Jefferson.

When Stephenson heard the story, he choked up.

“I was not aware of that until I started listening to his interviews,” Stephenson said. “So the fact that I watched that kid as a 7-year-old and never knew that. His attitude, his smile, his charisma with the community — and to not have known that, that made me tear up a little bit when I saw that.”

Stephenson was not alone. As an administrator, Parker was privy to more of what was going on with the Starks family, but he estimated 90% of Starks’ teachers and school workers “had no idea of what they went through over several years there just to get to school.” Malaki said his best friends weren’t even aware. Neither was his extended family.

“When Malaki first came public with this, I had a lot of people in my family that was pretty angry at me because I didn’t tell them that we was going through that process, because I’m not the type that will reach out and ask for help,” Tisha said.

Tisha knows better now, and now that the story’s public, she wants other parents to know that, too.

“It doesn’t matter who you are,” Tisha said. “I mean, life happens. You don’t have to feel ashamed. You don’t have to feel embarrassed. And then the biggest thing is asking for help. Like I used to tell my kids, closed mouth don’t get fed. And now I know that.”

A place of their own

In 2024, the Starks family bought their first house.

One year later, Malaki was drafted by the Ravens as the 27th overall pick.

One month after that, he signed his contract: a four-year, $16.6 million deal with an $8.7 million signing bonus. If Malaki is smart with his money — he has a financial adviser who preaches the importance of generational wealth — Mariah’s two kids and any kids Malaki and Jackson have will never have to wonder where they will sleep on any given night.

Meanwhile, Mariah went to college and became a nurse.

And now, Larry and Tisha are the ones donating to foundations such as the Boys & Girls Clubs and shelters for women, foundations that help people who are going through similar experiences to theirs.

Everything’s changed in a way Tisha never could have imagined. And yet nothing’s changed.

Their story might be out, but no one has looked at them differently, Tisha said.

Their pockets might be full, but they still walk alongside their neighbors in the community. Stephenson said he ran into Larry a few days before the draft, yet Larry made sure to turn the conversation toward Stephenson’s family to check in.

People in the community are excited for Malaki’s upcoming season — but they’ve been excited for every Georgia and Jefferson season, as well.

Everyone still expects things to stay the same even if Malaki finds immense success in the NFL. He’s on track to, even if it’s early days.

Former first-round pick safety Kyle Hamilton (who went to Malaki’s rival high school) said Malaki is already “miles ahead” of where he was as a rookie. Hamilton has been a Pro Bowler two out of his three NFL seasons.

Malaki has been forced to step up fast after safety Ar’Darius Washington tore his Achilles tendon. He’s keeping up with the offense’s best, and he made his first interception in the first week of training camp.

“Every test that we’ve thrown at him since the spring up to now, his first week of training camp, he’s passed with flying colors, which is expected,” defensive coordinator Zach Orr said. “You saw him in college. You talk to his coaches; you talk to people who’ve known him; you know his makeup.”

At Georgia, Malaki became a rare freshman starter and made an interception in his first college game. The NFL might be another level, but Georgia stardom is not something to scoff at in SEC country. Yet he remained the same guy who prefers the simple pleasures of playing with his and Jackson’s dog, exploring new places with Jackson and hanging out with kids over fame.

Parker said NFL teams came asking questions when they were doing predraft research, and one scout informed him that his answers matched those of people from other parts of Malaki’s life.

“I think that is really unique, that when you can have multiple people in multiple settings provide you the exact same feedback of the person, I think that shows how genuine they must be,” Parker said.

The people of Jefferson tried to give Starks space after he was drafted. Although many of them hadn’t heard from Starks at the time they were interviewed, they learned they were still in his heart and his mind.

The NFL offers matching grants for current and former NFL players to go to nonprofit organizations, schools or youth football programs. Within two weeks of being drafted, Jefferson’s high school received a check.

It’s just one of many ways Starks is planning on giving back to the people who “poured so much into” him. Jackson said they’ve been tossing ideas around of all the causes they can champion and things they can do — in their hometown and their new home — now that he’s so close to achieving his NFL dream.

“Baltimore is my home now, and I’ve seen great things around the city, and I’ve seen some things that I’d like to, you know, make a change towards, some things that I’d like to help out towards too,” Malaki said.

First, Starks has to prove he has what it takes under the sweltering Owings Mills sun as training camp progresses. It’s early, but all signs are pointing to Starks continuing to be the guy his supporters have advertised. Harbaugh spoke glowingly of how quickly Starks has caught on.

“He was organizing walk-throughs at the hotel for the rookies pretty much the whole [rookie] camp,” Harbaugh said. “I think that’s pretty cool, and he’s always on point. [...] He’s very much a pro, probably way advanced beyond his years, in terms of being a pro.”

Meanwhile, the youth of Jefferson wait for Starks to come home. He’s a local hero, but he’s also that cool older kid who always had time to shoot around with them. So they wait outside Tisha’s house — the one she and her husband worked so hard for — with cameras, pens and balls, hoping for a picture, an autograph or a pick-up game.